


Advent: Competition

by FyrMaiden



Series: Klaine Advent 2015 [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M, Meet-Cute, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5343977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrMaiden/pseuds/FyrMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The New York Orphan Pot Luck Dinner Club (it needs a new name) has a lot of traditions. The cranberry jelly is just one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advent: Competition

Advent: Competition  
Words: ~1k  
Warnings: Shmoop? I’m pretty sure this is the actual definition of shmoop. LOOK MA, I CAN DO FLUFF.

The New York Orphans Pot Luck Dinner Club - Kurt swears they’re going to give it a better name, but it’s been years now and the mouthful continues unabated - was originally founded on terms of mutual weirdness and the belief that ‘No one should be alone on the holidays, Kurt!’ (as Rachel had put it, her toes curled into the depths of her slippers and her hair hanging in braids over her ears, their first Christmas since her dads divorced). Membership peaks and wanes, is completely free, and has just one rule: to be invited to the table, you have to have no close family in the city. (Spouses don’t count, although that rule was only instigated the winter that Kurt had finally married Blaine, after three years of maybes and a lot of counselling, which had mostly been his dad’s boot up his butt, pointing out that a boy like Blaine comes along once in a lifetime and you gotta grab that with both hands because you don’t wanna watch it walk away. Kurt had thought about it for a while, noted that actually, watching Blaine leave was plenty fun, but that his dad was right and he wanted to keep him forever. Thank you.) 

Over the years, the Club has picked up many traditions - even the mismatched crockery and silverware is carefully orchestrated - and each person must bring at least one item. Santana shows up every week with foil containers in a brown paper bag, and they share the laughter as she deposits take out in the middle of the table and declare ‘Happy Hanukah, or whatever’ in July, and Rachel will - despite having learned to cook since that first year, when she nearly set fire to their kitchen trying to impress her boyfriend - provide something tasteless with badly made polenta in it, before Kurt brings out the one she’ll have dropped off earlier in the day. Traditions are important to the Pot Luck Dinner Club. Many of them they break on a weekly basis, and some are so ingrained with the season that they’re no longer questioned.

Like the cranberry jelly at Pot Luck Thanksgiving, and the oft repeated and yet still largely forgotten story of how Kurt and Blaine met.

The tradition is a simple one - Pot Luck Thanksgiving (held - now that many members of the club are married, or have children at home, or both - on the Sunday after Thanksgiving) is not quite complete without Blaine dumping a jar of the cheapest, sweetest cranberry jelly he could find on the table, a look of triumph on his face as he sticks one the of the mismatched spoons in it and takes his seat. 

It began like this.

2013\. Blaine’s first winter in the city. His roommate at the dorms had - against dorm policy - got a girl in their room, and Blaine had spent enough nights standing around like a third wheel that he’d decided to head out to one of his friends. That friend - now a Pot Luck regular himself - had dispatched Blaine to the closest convenience store with a handful of change to buy the cheapest cranberry jelly he could find to go into sandwiches made from leftover turkey. Winding his scarf around his neck, Blaine had headed back out onto the street and trudged the block and a half to the store.

One jar. There had been one jar of cranberry jelly left. One jar, and Blaine making beeline for it. And then, just as he reached out a hand to grab it, another one swooped in, all long fingers and smart cuffs with little brass buttons on them, grabbing the jar and depositing it in a basket. Blaine huffed a sigh and bent down to check the back of the shelf, and Brass Buttons had said, voice breathy and sweet, “Did you want this?” 

Blaine stood up slowly and turned his head. Brass Buttons, in his beautifully fitted coat, with his pink cheeks and tall hair, was holding out the jar of jelly. Blaine shook his head.

“You won it fair and square,” he said, and offered a smile that he hoped looked more sincere than it felt. Brass Buttons inclined his head, a smile stretching his face. 

“The joys of leaving it to the very last minute for basic essentials,” he said. “Look, I’m sure my roommate has more. You take this.” He proffered the jar again, and Blaine took it hesitantly.

“Thanks,” he said, and then, for reasons he still isn’t sure of, however many years later: “I’m Blaine.” A pause. “By the way.” 

Brass Buttons laughed and switched his basket to his other hand, stretching out his right. “I’m Kurt,” he said, and, “Enjoy your cranberry jelly, Blaine.” 

As Blaine watched him walk away, he’d felt that there should be more to say. He’d blown his first real audition. 

He’d met Kurt again at the register, as he fished through his pockets for three extra cents. Kurt had been his knight in shining armours, handing 5 cents to the cashier and smiling at Blaine as he did so. Blaine, his cheeks flushing bright red, stammered his apology and then waited for Kurt to pay for his own goods. 

“Do you have any place to be?” he asked, shoving the jar of jelly into his pocket. Kurt looked at him quizzically.

“I’m doing last minute grocery shopping on Thanksgiving,” he said. “My diary is overcrowded.”

“Oh,” Blaine looked away, and Kurt sighed.

“No, Blaine, I’ve got nowhere else to be. Not if cute boys are asking.” When Blaine looked at him, Kurt was staring straight at him. “Especially not cute boys who owe me a jar of cranberry jelly and three cents.” 

They left the store together, Kurt with a bag of groceries in one arm and Blaine with cheap, sweet jelly in his pocket, and, when Blaine finally left the warmth of Kurt’s apartment, it was with his number in his phone and his smile in his eyes.

And that’s why Blaine provides the over-sweet cranberry jelly at Pot Luck Thanksgiving.

And why, as their friends all pull on their coats and take their leave for another year, he slides three cents into Kurt’s pocket and kisses his cheek.

“Love you,” he says, and Kurt laughs and kisses him back.

“Dork. I must owe you at least a dollar by now,” he says, and locks the door for the night.


End file.
